


irony bites

by vickydd



Series: don't forget to wipe the blood off your lips [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, Derek Hale is Bad at Feelings, Derek-centric, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Season/Series 02, Stiles isn't taking any of Derek's shit, basically i dug deeper at the part of derek that thinks its okay to seduce 15-year-old Erica, set somewhere in season two
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-09
Updated: 2016-10-09
Packaged: 2018-08-20 09:24:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8244290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vickydd/pseuds/vickydd
Summary: Derek is not blind. He sees the way people objectify him, smells how much they want him, and hears them say so behind his back.
As he showed with Erica, he feels no qualms about using it in his favor.
At the station the week before, Derek had smelled something on Stiles. He might have been misunderstood it, maybe. It might have meant that Stiles was jealous of his looks, not his attention.
Either way, he’d had to deal with the pheromones that Stiles released whenever something powerful, scary, and attractive chose to get all up in the boy’s business.
So Derek’s plan is smooth and simple: pretend to share the sentiment.
It shouldn’t be too hard. All he’d have to do is shut the boy up the moment he said something stupid. And hell, Stiles says a lot of stupid shit.
Really, teenagers are too easy. Derek would know.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Another one! Woo! Basically using my free time to write or finish writing these, it's great.  
> So, this one there is definitely some dubious consent going on, because the fandom never really talks about that one time Derek was a MAJOR dickwad and basically pulled a mini Kate on Erica and how slytherin he acted, so i wanted to make that part of him understandable and real so i wrote a thing. 
> 
> Hope you like it and let me know if there should be anything else in the tags!

After the pool incident, Derek considers it.

There hadn’t been a blip. It hadn’t been a lie. Stiles trusted him. Or at least, the boy thinks he can trust him.

_He’s annoying as hell_ , says a voice in head, _too smart –  too close to Scott._

But that’s perfect, isn’t it? Derek wants Scott in his pack, and Stiles is definitely one way to get there.

But how to ensure Stiles’s loyalty?

Derek thinks back, and suddenly the perfect idea strikes.

He knows exactly what to do.

 

Derek is not blind. He sees the way people objectify him, smells how much they want him, and hears them say so behind his back.

As he showed with Erica, he feels no qualms about using it in his favor.

At the station the week before, Derek had smelled something on Stiles. He might have been misunderstood it, maybe. It might have meant that Stiles was jealous of his looks, not his attention.

Either way, he’d had to deal with the pheromones that Stiles released whenever something powerful, scary, and attractive chose to get all up in the boy’s business.

Lydia, Erica, Derek; the boy even reacted to Peter. Peter, of all people.

So Derek’s plan is smooth and simple: pretend to share the sentiment.

It shouldn’t be too hard. All he’d have to do is shut the boy up the moment he said something stupid. And hell, Stiles says a lot of stupid shit.

He’s the kind of kid Derek would’ve pushed around without a thought back in high school, laughing as he walked away. Sure, he’s got _some_ useful qualities, Derek can see why Peter had offered him the bite. The boy will put his own life at risk to be appreciated, will die loyal even if it’s the loyalty that’s killing him.

Really, teenagers are _too_ easy. Derek would know.

 

Derek reconsiders when he catches a whiff of arousal that smells so intoxicatingly good he has to growl at Stiles to get his head back in the game.

The smell quickly fades into fear, and Derek ignores the way Stiles’s eyes flit to his lips anxiously. One more try with Scott. Just one.

If that didn’t go his way, then Stiles wouldn’t even have time to say “Derek” before he’d make him speechless.

 

Angry at his betas and angry at Scott, Derek doesn’t think as he makes his way to Stiles’s house.

Maybe he should break the boy’s heart afterwards, give someone else a taste of what Derek had been through. Teach Scott a lesson in taking care of what he has.

Either way, it wasn’t in his best interests to break Stiles’s heart. It’d be much easier to keep Scott in the pack if he were to end things decently with the boy’s foolish sidekick.

Gosh, he still had to _start_ things. And then, because things were never that easy, turn Stiles. Convincing Scott to join his pack if Stiles is already a part of it – now, that’d be easy.

He’d be so powerful, he could already _taste_ it.

Derek jumps through the window and into Stiles’s room. The empty room smells of teenage boy.

It smells of things Stiles accomplishes with his right hand, of junk food, and something so particularly Stiles it makes Derek want to sneeze.

Considering he has no idea what time the boy will be home and hoping that the Sheriff is on a night shift, Derek strategizes.

Should he go for sweet and caring, or keep it all threats and charm?

Derek can hear Stiles’s snort for if he had heard that question. “ _As if you could be charming, right._ ”

_Both_ , he thinks.

Stiles will only fall for both.

But how far is he willing to go? Stiles smells distinctly virgin, and well, Derek doesn’t aspire to be another Kate, even if it’d be an ironic revenge to the goddamn universe. However, it hadn’t stopped him with Erica.

Making a quick decision, Derek takes his leather jacket off and carefully lays on the back of the desk chair. His shirt comes off next.

He waits patiently until he hears the jeep pulling into the driveway. Doing a little stretch and mussing his hair slightly so it looks like he ran here – which he did – Derek gets into position by Stiles’s dresser, t-shirt drawer open.

He hears the door open into Stiles’s room.

“Sorry,” Derek peeks over his shoulder, aiming for nonchalance, “there was blood on mine.”

Stiles flails. “D-Derek! This is quite the disorienting deja-vu, woah.”

His heart beat spikes and Derek can practically _hear_ the flush coming to his cheeks.

“Stiles.” Derek pulls a random shirt on. He turns around and sees Stiles brows climb even higher with surprise, eyes Bambi wide and innocent. “Too small, huh? What do you think?”

The boy is red, his heartbeat is unsteady, and the smell of arousal is slowly overpowering the teenage boy smell. Well, the smell of more arousal than that of a teenage boy’s room, anyway. 

Derek flexes as he waits for a reply, trying to maintain the sheepish look while hiding a smirk.

“Ahh,” Stiles says airily, avoiding eye contact. He drops his bag on the floor and takes a couple steps until he’s sitting in the desk chair, twirling once as he speaks. “You’re still mad about that, aren’t you? Well, Danny’s not here, you’ve got no one to please, so no worries. I’ll give you a call if we need another IT favor though. You’ll be the first to know!”

It’s all said with a very Stiles like dramatic flair, like the world might as well be ending as they speak, _how dare Derek Hale be stripping in his room?_ Stiles even adds a little slap to his thighs at the end, like: _you done yet?_

“I’ll take that as a no,” Derek concedes, feeling pretty good about his plan. He turns his back to the boy with a little extra hip movement than necessary and throws the shirt off, once again rummaging through the drawers.

The shirt he threw lands on Stiles’s lap, and when he sneaks a glance backwards, the teen is gaping at the cloth like it personally offended him.

Stiles must notice Derek’s eyes on him because he his face lights up with confused innocence and he throws the shirt off with a very flustered, “ _Dude_!”

Derek ignores him and pulls on another shirt – this one is a much better fit. Stiles shifts his legs awkwardly as Derek turns around and walks towards him.

The werewolf leans into the boy’s space, putting one hand on each of Stiles’s knees. The smell of arousal is nearly choke-worthy now, but Derek can also sense the fear the other boy is feeling.

“What if it isn’t Danny I want to please?” Derek asks softly, his right hand crawling to Stiles’s mid-thigh.

The teenager is speechless for a moment. He has shrunk himself as far into the chair as he can go and his hands are now covering the evident problem the boy is dealing with in his jeans. Derek smiles, teeth and all, at the reaction.

“I, uh, I—” Stiles splutters. “Um, Derek, what are you doi— what do you want?”

Derek leans in and lets his lips brush Stiles’s earlobe seductively. Softly, he bites down on the pale skin and pulls a little. He feels the sharp intake of breath that Stiles lets out into the crook of his neck and lowers his gaze to Stiles’s neck.

There are multiple little moles littering the otherwise clear skin, and Derek usually finds them annoying, but can admit it would be a sweet gesture to make Stiles think he appreciates them. Kissing down from the boy’s ear all the way to the collar of his shirt, Derek sinks human teeth into the skin there before sucking expertly, his hands now firmly holding onto Stiles’s hips.

The boy all but jumps underneath him, hands coming up to hold Derek’s sides over his shirt. “Der-”

Derek pulls away from the boy’s neck with a dirty sounding pop and all but inhales Stiles’s words by roughly pushing their lips together.

He isn’t sure what he was expecting, it’s not like Derek doesn’t know that Stiles is a virgin, but holy, Stiles has a good mouth.

At first the boy doesn’t react, staying awkwardly still before abruptly kissing Derek back with renown vigor. His mouth tastes sweet, and Derek remembers thinking that Stiles’s oral fixation was horribly annoying. Now he thinks that whatever the boy does with his mouth works, and that he should continue in his annoying oral habits so that Derek doesn’t feel like he’s kissing some inexperienced virgin.

Which technically, is exactly what he’s doing.

He sucks on Stiles’s tongue in response to the boy squeezing his sides, and chooses to ignore that.

Derek slides his right hand up. He pulls at the belt hoop on Stiles’s hip before teasing at the skin he’s exposed by pushing the boy’s layers up. Derek slides his finger into the waistband of what he assumes are Stiles’s boxers, and pulls down.

Next thing he knows Stiles’s hands are on his chest and pushing back violently. Caught unexpecting, Derek is pushed back a couple steps, Stiles’s lip slipping from where it was caught between his teeth while his hands are ripped away from where they were carefully mapping new skin on the boy’s waist.

Stiles jumps up from his chair – yep, that’s his _I’m about to not stop talking for a very long time_ look, but something must change because where his shoulders were scrunched up angrily and his eyes wereflying everywhere but at Derek out of frustration, heart beat skittering and looking flustered only seconds ago, the boy suddenly tenses and slumps where he’s standing, silent. His eyes find the ground, searching for something that probably isn’t there.

“Stiles?” Derek asks, taking a hesitant step forward.

Maybe he’d read the signs wrong? Maybe Stiles wouldn’t fall for such an abrupt character change? Derek didn’t know, but under the scent of arousal, embarrassment, and frustration, something changes.

“I-” the boy tries, but he can’t seem to find the energy to conjure words, and it almost scares Derek. “What do you want, Derek?” he finally questions, looking up at him with intense Bambi eyes that make Derek feel uncomfortable.

Derek knows that he always sounds like words are hard things to use, but his reply came out sounding like he’d hurt himself in the process of saying it. “What- Stiles. What are you talking about?”

It comes out short and angry, and Derek winces as Stiles’s obvious frustrations changes to anger.

“What, do, you, _want_?” Stiles spits, taking another step backwards and almost tripping over the desk chair.

Derek’s pulse rises viciously and he rolls his eyes, smirking. This he can answer; this he knows how to do.

“I thought I’d made that pretty obvious,” he snarks, teeth baring themselves in a wolfish grin.

If possible Stiles’s eyes get even bigger and he flails in the air, pushing his desk chair back with his foot so not to almost trip again.

The boy huffs in disbelief. “Yes, sure. Yeah, oh my god, why not? Because werewolves with model worthy looks and huge asshole power complexes throw themselves at me, and my 147 pounds wet, daily. That’s a thing that happens regularly, I think you’ll have to wait in line at this point, Derek. Oh my god.”

The boy’s words only work in furthering Derek’s anger, and he tries to focus on his task.

Derek takes another step forward. “Is that a problem?”

His eyes flit to the still obvious tent in Stiles’s pants with a challenge in his eyebrows, “Would you like me to stop?”

“No – I mean! Ye— I mean—”

He takes another step into Stiles’s space. “Then what’s the problem?”

The boy’s pulse ticks from the proximity. He huffs again and says something under his breath, his eyes glued to the floor.

Derek growls under his breath. Why was he choosing to endure this again?  

“Stiles, speak up, I can’t hea—”

The boy takes a big step back with his arms spread out like he’s just performed a magic trick of grand caliber. The look in his eyes is back to frustration, as if he’s mad Derek has yet to understand what he’s talking about.

“You wouldn’t be doing this if you didn’t want something!” Stiles says, and immediately, guilt floods the alpha’s system.

“So, just, like – what is it? Just tell me, or am I gonna have to guess?” the boy tries, and he looks serious about getting the answer. His previous flush is gone and his eyes amber are a cold Derek didn’t think they could be.

It’s similar to the look he gave Derek after the pool incident.

_Now or never_ , Derek decides.

“I—” he says, laying it on thick with his best lovesick teenager face as he runs his hand through his hair shyly – Stiles will appreciate vulnerability, he thinks.

“You’re important to me, Stiles,” he chooses, words soft as he sneaks a glance up from the floor to see Stiles’s reaction.

It’s obvious something changes in his demeanor. The boy’s mouth pops open in honest surprise and his immediate unbelieving and unwilling to accept manner pulls at one of Derek’s heartstrings. He feels bad about this deceitful plan once more. Here he is, using the boy’s goodness for his own needs. It’s different with Stiles – the kid has actually saved his life a couple of times and proved trustworthy over and over.

“I am?” Stiles asks, lips pursed uncertainly.

“Yes,” Derek nods with conviction to make the act more believable. “More than you know.”

Reaching forward slowly so the boy can pull away, he catches Stiles’s jaw in one hand. While the teen still looks and smells of unbelief, he doesn’t protest, eyeing him warily. There must be something in the look Derek gives him, because he relaxes a little in the hold and Derek takes one last step. He notices that he’s about an inch or two taller than Stiles, and can count each of Stiles’s unnaturally long eyelashes from this distance.

Making sure to give the impression that Stiles can pull back if he wants to, Derek leans in.

There’s a cute little confused frown on the boy’s lips, mouth slightly agape. Stiles licks his lips, and the alpha can smell the teen’s body become reinterested.

A pale hand with long fingers drops onto his shoulder. Derek meets Stiles gaze questioningly, feeling warm breath on his lips.

“But—”

It’s a challenge to not roll his eyes, but he finds a hopefully more endearing way to cut the boy off. Brushing their lips together only slightly, he says, “Shut up, Stiles.”

The werewolf feels the teens lips expand into a small happy smile before he kisses him once more. This time, he doesn’t get pushed away.

Maybe his plan could work.

 

For about 2 weeks, Derek gets completely away with it.

He sneaks into Stiles’s room, assures the teen it’s because he cares, they have mutual orgasms, and then Derek would pretend to care once again, gently putting the teen to bed and kissing his forehead before slipping out through the window.

They hadn’t gone further than hand-jobs, and if Derek were being completely honest, he was kind of disappointed. Stiles had a way with his mouth that Derek was more than eager to have on the nether regions of his body, no matter how horrible of a person he was for thinking that way.

Another thing Derek noticed, albeit was a little confused by, is that Stiles is very self-conscious. He’d nearly always slip his shirt and pants, not that the pants ever came fully off, back on right away afterwards. He preferred to touch Derek, rather than to let Derek touch him. They were just little things, but Derek knew what they were.

Stiles carried around almost as much self-hatred as Derek himself did.

Where all of it come from, Derek was actually quite interested to find out, but he didn’t. But Derek didn’t care. He couldn’t care.

As for Scott, and the other wolves, all either of them had to do was take a shower, and no one ever knew any better.

 

On the eigth night that Derek comes around, Stiles is lying in bed, looking at the ceiling like it’s a novel, and each crevice and crack in the blue paint above hold an answer to a question. Stiles barely spares him a glance, an edge of a smile on his face that Derek returns easily for appearances.

Derek lies down next to him and doesn’t say anything, only wrapping an arm around Stiles’s waist and putting his head into the crook of the boy’s neck. He inhales the warm and now more familiar scent.

Stiles’s hand comes up to grip his bicep. “Derek?”

“Yes?” he grunts in response. His eyes zoom to a lonely little mole right under Stiles’s ear, and he presses closer to kiss it distractedly.

“. . .do you think I made the right choice?” Stiles asks, and Derek realizes he’s missed half of what the boy said.

“What?” the alpha tilts his head up, now placing a kiss to Stiles’s jaw. The skin is smooth and warm.

“When Peter offered to bite me,” the boy says with a steady voice, eyes dropping to meet Derek’s, “do you think I was right to say no? Like, I like being the human, but sometimes, it’s so easy to hurt me, you know?”

_Yes_ , Derek knows, _Stiles is as clumsy as he is breakable_.

He smirks at the boy, aiming for a light teasing tone. “Well,” Derek lifts himself with an elbow before dropping a short kiss to Stiles’s lips.

This was his chance. “If you ever change your mind, I wouldn’t mind getting a little. . .” Derek throws a leg over Stiles’s hips and lowers his face towards the boy’s neck, eyes red and teeth elongating, “. . . _bitey_.”

Stiles’s eyes widen, and Derek could probably smell the arousal from miles away, but before the boy has a chance to say anything else, Derek is licking a long strip of skin from the collar of Stiles’s shirt to his jawline. He tastes even better than he smells. He teases his elongated teeth down Stiles’s neck, careful not to let the skin break, and sucks on the pale skin.

“Derek,” Stiles gasps. “No- no, don’t bite me.”

Derek pulls away, careful to stay in character. His eyes aren’t red anymore, and his teeth shrink back slowly. “Why, Stiles?”

He doesn’t seem to have an answer and Derek can see the wheels spinning behind whiskey eyes and flushed cheeks. “I-”

“Your ADHD,” he interrupts, “your inability to protect your dad – to protect yourself,” Derek cuts him off, “it’d be gone.”

“But-” Stiles starts again, but when he doesn’t finish the thought, Derek kisses him a little rougly.

“But what, Stiles?” Derek growls. He plays one of his other cards. “I- I wouldn’t have to worry about you anymore, the way I do now. Wouldn’t have to wonder which werewolf fight is gonna be your last.”

Stiles is quiet at this, eyes glassy as he thinks it all through.

Derek kisses his way down the boy’s chest softly, reaching the for the edge of the boy’s single layer, gently prodding the shirt up and over Stiles’s head. He keeps his touches smooth and caring, and Derek tries to remember what it felt like to have someone else take care of him. Each kiss to Stiles’s torso gain him a breathy little sigh, a small twitch of long fingers in Derek’s hair.

When he lifts himself up to be face to face with Stiles once again, he tries to, as horrible as it might be, to copy the look he made at Paige as she died. It came easily, once he remembered that it could happen to Stiles too.

“Derek. . .” Stiles breathes. “I can’t. I don’t want it.”

_Blip._

Derek cannot stop himself from emitting a small growl at the lie. Stiles tenses up, already shutting down a little and pulling away.

With a firm hand on Stiles’s chest and the other there to keep the boy from going anywhere, Derek leans down and plays another card, one a little more pleasurable.  

They kiss for ages – filthy, sweet, rough, slow, everything – Derek’s shirt following Stiles’s to the floor, the sound of their collective gasps as they move against each other in perfect friction the only noises in the room.

It’s still hard to get over how good Stiles is at this. How good he makes Derek feel.

As Stiles’s hand moves lower and the boy’s kisses get a little filthier, Derek feels his eyes become red in a loss of control. _Anger_ , he thinks, _focus on the anger. It’ll anchor you._

It isn’t the first time this has happened, but suddenly, the anger isn’t enough, and of course, this makes him mad at Stiles.

Mad at the boy for reminding Derek of how lonely the Alpha truly is, for not already falling into Derek’s trap, for not being easier to manipulate and betray, and soon Derek feels his elongated teeth brush Stiles neck as he comes, claws digging into Stiles’s neck and hip.

The urge to bite down, to _claim_ , is nearly disconcerting.

Stiles gasps in pain as he comes not a second later. “ _Dude!_ ” it’s breathy with pleasure, but unmistakable anger and disappointment bleed through anyways.

Stiles moves away from Derek, who is already putting a little space between them even through hazy post orgasm thoughts, his claws clenched in his fists.  Stiles is tripping away from him, off the bed, and all the way to the other side of the room.

Everything is red; his vision, Stiles’s blood as it drips in little pebbles down the boy’s neck, everything.

Stiles brings up a shaking hand to the bite mark on his neck and he eyes the blood that smears onto his fingers as if they’re a death sentence.

Stiles swallows, and Derek tries to focus, tries to think. This was not how he’d planned to do things. This was not – no –

“Get out.”

Derek blinks, eyes finally green as he snaps out of the funk biting Stiles had put him in. “What?”

“I said ‘get out.’ You heard me. Get out!” Stiles spits, eyes filling with tears and betrayal. He looks at Derek, at Derek’s regretful but not entirely guilty stance. His confused and sad but not sorry demeanor.

Something clicks so loudly behind those whiskey eyes that Derek can hear it from across the room. Derek _feels_ it from across the room. It’s like someone lit a match in his heart and made sure to douse it with gasoline beforehand.

“ _That_ ’s what you wanted, isn’t it?” Stiles nearly cries, voice loud and cracking. “It is, isn’t it! No.”

Stiles looks like he could stab Derek through the heart with a wolfsbane laced knife and not think twice about it, and he has tears streaming down his face right over kiss swollen lips and Derek has no idea what to do. No idea how to fix this.

So he does what he does best.

Derek flees _._

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and Kudos are literally life, so keep me alive? ;)  
> I'd really like to hear what you thought, first time writing any sterek where they actually do couplyish things like making out etc, i was editing and had to remove like four "kissed" because i was super unoriginal when i first wrote this.  
> This IS a oneshot, but i believe inspiration may strike again for a fix it sequel, but this really accomplished all i wished it would with Derek being super questionable and not cool, idk, folks.
> 
> Anyway, have an amazing day and hope you liked it!  
> You can find me on the Tumblr as lumenalumia :)


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